


Failing 101

by sadtomato



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty is the Mom Friend, Blindfolds, Bondage, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Pie, Praise Kink, Ransom is a coral reef, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadtomato/pseuds/sadtomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ransom gets a C on an exam and shuts down. Holster's the only one in the Haus who knows how to fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failing 101

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote most of this via text message to [sapphirescribe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirescribe/pseuds/sapphirescribe), having fallen suddenly and desperately in love with Ransom and Holster. Later that night, I copied and pasted all of the texts into a word doc, cleaned it up, and went to bed feeling pleased. I decided to scour AO3 for more Ransom/Holster fic, at which point I realized the beginning of my story is somewhat similar to the beginning of emmagrant01's [Score.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5382737) It diverges quite a bit from there, but I wanted to acknowledge the similarity and point you in the direction of her work... because it's awesome. If you only read one Ransom/Holster fic today, make it that one (or [BFFWB](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5040133)) (or any of [her other fics](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/pseuds/emmagrant01) because DAMN they are good).

Ransom doesn’t remember walking home from class. He must have, because he’s sitting in the kitchen at the Haus, staring at his exam, but he doesn’t remember the walk. He doesn’t remember anything about class, either, except the end - when his TA handed back his exam with a bright red C at the top.

He doesn’t hear Bittle come home, but he jumps a little when Bittle pats him on the back.

“You okay, Ransom?” he asks. 

Ransom looks up at him and frowns, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t point out the test sitting on the table in front of him. He doesn’t want to deal with any of it yet.

“Hmm, how about some pie? I made a blueberry pie last night, it’s a little overcooked on one side, bless Betsy’s heart, but it’s still delicious.” Bittle pulls a pie out of the refrigerator and chatters away while he cuts Ransom a slice; he’s talking about practice, about Jack, but Ransom doesn’t really register what he’s saying. Bittle sets the pie down in front of him and smiles, but Ransom isn’t hungry.

Bittle’s face falls and he reaches for his phone.

A few minutes later, Jack comes bounding down the stairs. He pulls out the chair next to Ransom, spins it around, and sits in it backwards. He looks like an uncool dad about to have an awkward sex talk.

“What’s up, Rans?” he asks, but he’s looking at Bittle.

Ransom doesn’t say a word, but he slides his exam across the table for Jack to see.

“Bro,” Jack says sadly, reaching out to cover Ransom’s hand with his own. “You okay?”

Ransom doesn’t answer.

“Rans, man, I know how you’re feeling right now. My therapist always says that I’m harder on myself than anyone else is, and that I have to forgive myself, and learn from my mistakes.” 

Ransom just glares at him. Jack keeps talking until Ransom looks away, back down at his exam, and then Jack sighs and reaches for his phone.

Bittle and Jack are having some kind of silent conversation with their eyebrows when Shitty walks in from the backyard. 

“Oluransi, you cuddly motherfucker, come here,” he says, wrapping an arm around Ransom from behind. “What’s wrong? You’ve got this one’s knickers in a twist,” he says, nodding towards Jack.

Normally Ransom is as happy to be cuddled by Shitty as anyone else--Shitty is an excellent cuddler-- but he can’t stand it today. He shrugs him off, crosses his arms, and stares down at the table in front of him.

“Alright, bro,” Shitty says, softly. “Wanna go up to the roof for a bit? I’ll smoke you up?” 

Ransom frowns. That’s not--it’s not what he _needs_. He knows, on some level, that he’s overreacting, but he’s stuck in this negative feedback loop of _you fucked up, you fucked up, you fucking failed_ in his head and he can’t escape it. His friends are trying, but they aren’t helping, nothing is helping. 

They’re all on their phones now, Bittle and Jack and Shitty, and Ransom is staring at the pie and thinking about what a failure he is.

“Where is he?” Bittle asks, sounding tense.

“He’ll be here in a few,” Shitty answers.

They sit there in awkward silence for a few minutes--Ransom wishes they would just _leave_ , but he doesn’t want to ask. He knows he could leave, go upstairs, and lock himself in the attic, but he’s waiting.

Holster walks into the kitchen looking tense. He takes one look at Ransom sitting at the table, clocks the exam and the uneaten pie, and his face softens. Bittle starts talking and Holster puts a finger to his lips to shush him.

He puts his hand on the back of Ransom's neck and says "C’mon," and that’s all it takes to unlock Ransom, to get him moving. He stands, focuses on Holster’s hand on his neck and then his bicep, guiding him. Shitty reaches for the blueberry pie Ransom is abandoning, but Holster pokes him in the chest to stop him. "That's Ransom’s pie. Hands off."

Holster leads Ransom upstairs to the attic and locks the door behind them. He squeezes the back of Ransom's neck and says, "Alright, Rans, it's just me, now." 

"I... I failed," Ransom says. 

"You didn't fail," Holster corrects. "You got a C." 

Ransom shakes his head from side to side, grimacing, and Holster squeezes him tighter. He puts his other hand on Ransom's shoulder and pushes down, until he falls to his knees. 

"But that's not good enough, is it?" Holster asks. 

Ransom lets out a heavy sigh. "No, it's not."

"You wanna be good, now?" Holster asks. "Wanna be good for me?"

Ransom nods frantically, and Holster lets go of him. "Stay there, Rans." He moves to their closet, fishes out the shoebox that holds their makeshift bondage gear, and brings it back to where Ransom is waiting. 

"Gonna tie you up, okay?" He says, kneeling behind Ransom. He doesn't wait for an answer, just opens the box and pulls out a clothesline--it's not quite thick enough for what they use it for, but it's cheap and effective. 

Ransom doesn't move, but he lets Holster pull his arms behind his back and he keeps them there after Holster lets go. He holds still while Holster wraps the line around his wrists, then crosses it up his forearms and back down. He doesn't move until Holster stands up- he knows what's coming and he tilts his head back. Holster covers his eyes with the blindfold and ties it around his head. 

"There you go, bro," Holster says, tipping Ransom's head back down. "Just be good for me, okay? That's all you have to do right now." 

Ransom hears him moving, hears his zipper sliding down, his jeans being dropped to the floor and kicked away. Then he feels Holster's hand on the back of his head, guiding him forward. 

"Just take it," Holster says, feeding Ransom his cock. "Just take it for me."

Holster takes care of Ransom like that, rocking forward on his toes to thrust into Ransom's mouth, pulling Ransom's head forward to meet him. He holds Ransom still while he pulls back. He speeds up when he wants to and he slows down when Ransom needs to breathe. He thinks of everything. 

"That's good, that's just right," he says, fucking Ransom's mouth. "Want you to make me come, okay? That's what you need to do. Just be good for me and make me come."

Ransom closes his eyes behind the blindfold and focuses on Holster's voice, his smell, his taste. His world shrinks down to just this room, this boy, this moment, and it's the first time all day that he's felt like the world is right side up. 

"Really close, Rans," Holster warns him, thrusting harder into his mouth. "You're perfect, God, fuck. Fucking perfect, Justin." He pulls out after he starts to come, letting Ransom swallow what he can and watching the rest cling to his lips and his chin. 

Ransom sways a little when Holster lets him go. "Was I..." He asks, voice rough. 

"Yeah, Rans, you were great," Holster says, bending low to kiss him sweetly.

Holster walks around behind him, drops to his knees, and starts unwinding the rope from around Ransom's wrists. Ransom's head hangs heavy and he's soft and pliable as Holster moves his arms back to his sides and guides him up to his feet. He marches him over to the bottom bunk and guides him until he's sitting. 

Ransom doesn't speak until Holster reaches for the blindfold. "Not yet," he says, sounding a little desperate. 

"Okay, babe, I've got you," Holster tells him, pushing him gently back against the pillows. "C'mere." Holster lays on his back and tucks Ransom against his side. 

"You want?" He asks, tucking one finger under the waistband of Ransom's jeans. Ransom is mostly hard, but he's not worried about it right now, still feeling soft and fuzzy and good. 

"Later," Ransom says, resting his cheek against Holster's broad chest. 

He’s relaxed and happy, drifting somewhere quiet in his mind, and reality comes back to him slowly. He’s aware of Holster wiping off his face; he hears Shitty laughing from outside, probably on the roof. He’s aware of Holster, solid and strong beneath him. 

He’s aware that he got a C on his biochemistry midterm, which really fucking sucks, but it doesn’t seem like the end of the world anymore. 

He tugs off the blindfold and tosses it to the floor, then stretches and rolls onto his other side. 

“Holtzy,” he says, grabbing Holster’s hand and pulling it over his body, forcing him to be the big spoon.

“Bro,” Holster says softly, his breath tickling Ransom’s neck. “You should’ve texted me.”

“Seemed stupid,” Ransom admits, covering Holster’s hand with his own. 

“Nah,” Holster says. He lifts Ransom’s t-shirt and runs his fingers through his happy trail. “I get it. And I’m always... it’s always cool to text me.”

“Thanks,” Ransom whispers. He’s getting hard again, fast, now that his body feels more like his own. 

“I should be thanking you. Fucking incredible mouth on you, bro.” Holster unbuttons Ransom’s jeans with a flick. “Take these off.”

Ransom shimmies out of his jeans and his boxers, kicks them to the floor, and cuddles back up to Holster. 

Holster wraps a hand around Ransom’s cock and _oh fuck_ he starts off rough, like he knows Ransom is already worked up and he can take it.

“You did great, Rans, you were so hot,” he says, kissing Ransom’s neck every time he pauses. “You like it when I fuck your mouth like that?”

“Jesus, fuck,” Ransom gasps, gripping Holster’s forearm. Holster has a tight grip on his cock, he’s moving fast and Ransom’s head is spinning.

“Tell me,” Holster demands, slowing his movements.

“I like it, I like it,” Ransom sputters, his hips bucking into Holster’s hand. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re close already, aren’t you? Still turned on from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah, I-- I loved it,” Ransom admits, gasping.

“Come on, Rans, come for me,” Holster says. “You earned it, Justin, you were so fucking good today.”

Ransom tenses and comes over Holster’s fist, whimpering when Holster doesn’t relent and keeps jerking him hard and fast. He doesn’t stop until Ransom sucks in air through his teeth and pushes at Holster’s arm, finally telling him “Too much, too much.”

“You alright?” Holster asks, pulling his hand away.

Ransom laughs. “So alright, bro.”

Holster sits up enough to lean over the edge of the bed and grab Ransom’s boxers, uses them to clean them both up a little, and then tosses them vaguely in the direction of the laundry corner.

“Think Shitty ate that pie?” he asks, stifling a yawn. 

Ransom looks up at him, dazed from his orgasm, and he can’t think about anything other than getting Holster to do it all over again. Holster’s half hard in his briefs, and Ransom reaches out to run a finger down the length of his cock. 

“Pie first,” Holster says decisively, batting Ransom’s hand away. “Then we’ve got all night.”


End file.
